


Let That Sinner Take You In

by Waynesgrayson



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Dark!Matt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waynesgrayson/pseuds/Waynesgrayson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loud and harsh claps cause him to jump up and away from the body with a barely contained gasp. He turns and watches with wide eyes as the Devil steps out of the shadows, a grin stretched impossibly wide on his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let That Sinner Take You In

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try writing a romantic scene in the rain.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Thank you to Ron9101 for sparking this idea, and a huge thank you to BlaiddtheWolf for drawing fan art of 'This Is How I Show My Love.' I am still in awe.
> 
> Title taken from: Bright Lights by Matchbox Twenty (which is my favourite band in case you ever wanted to know)  
> Actual lyric: "Let that city take you in" but it totally sounds like 'sinner', so I went with it

 

Even though the day itself was beautiful, rain was in the forecast for the evening, and true to the meteorologists word, rain it did. Pouring down over Hell's Kitchen in a thick sheet of hard precipitation. Beating down onto the streets and the few unlucky who got caught in its might. People running down the streets with their jackets tugged as tight against their bodies as the fabric would allow, and umbrellas just barely winning the fight against the rain.

Among the unlucky, is Foggy Nelson. Walking home soaked to the bone, his clothing sticking to his skin and becoming heavy.

He and Karen have been spending a lot of late nights at the office lately. A case bigger than themselves landed its way into their laps and they were determined to do all they can to keep it. When it began to rain, the noise caused them both to break out of the work induced trance they were caught in. Karen looked out the window, and the word shit was out of her mouth in an instant.

“We should probably go.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I mean look at it out there. You think the power will go out?”

Naturally, there had only been one umbrella at the office, and Foggy wasn't going to make Karen fend for herself. Though judging by how hard it's pouring, Foggy doesn't think the umbrella is helping her much now.

He walks with his head down in an attempt to keep the water out of his eyes. His bag pulled close against him, as if he could somehow protect it. A car passes him, and he walks diagonally to further himself from the road, not wanting to be splashed from the copious amounts of water collecting on the sides of the road. Not that it matters much now, but still, getting splashed would be unpleasant.

Then he's falling, pushed from behind. The suddenness causes him to gasp and as his arms fall in front of him, his bag slips off his shoulder and lands on the ground with a thud that doesn't sound very good. He absently hears it lands as he catches himself on his palms and knees, but the sound of his blood racing in his veins overpowers the sound and that of the rain. Panic and fear grips at almost over corner of him, his head becoming foggy and dizzy from the rapid thoughts firing in his mind.

Time seems to slow. He can feel his heartbeat reaching every inch of him, touching his nerves and swirling in his stomach at a pace that makes him want to be sick. The fear jump starting his brain and making it go too fast, impossible to pull out a single thought.

All he can think, is that this can't be good.

He can't see the person behind him, but he can feel them. Feel them getting closer and closer as the milliseconds tick by, seemingly taking forever as the fabricated slow motion of the moment takes over. The presence behind him, looms over like a shadow, ready to cling onto him. Foggy's breathing is shallow. Giant breaths in and out the nose as he tires to calm himself down, but as time passes his panic only seems to grow. Stealing his breath and crushing his head in.

He sees it out of the corner of his eye then. Almost perfectly blended into its shadowed, wet, and red coloured surroundings.

A brick.

He doesn't pause to think or wonder if it will actually work. He doesn't hesitate as he reaches out and curls his fingers around the objects as it settles in his palm, and he doesn't worry when he quickly turns and uses all of his strength and energy to slam the object into the person behind him.

And really, one hit should have been enough. But with fear and adrenaline at the helm, Foggy didn't stop.

The feel of the brick was rough, rubbing against his hands and making them angry and raw. Cutting into his palms as he brings it down and up. There isn't much of a sound. Nothing like in the movies where you hear every gory little detail. It was quiet and oddly peaceful as Foggy slammed the brick into the flesh of the person underneath him. Blood spraying up and being quickly washed away by the downpour. Foggy barely noticed that there wasn't just blood soaking the cuffs of his jacket.

Over and over again he repeated the action, until the adrenaline had gone, leaving him feeling dead tired. The feeling seeping into his bones and making everything snap back.

It's still raining. Pouring over the city with the same intensity it had been when Foggy tuned it out. He's panting now, and his hands are red. It feels like hours have passed.

He's looking down at the body from his crouched position, but he isn't really seeing or comprehending what's in front of him. He sees it's unmoving, sprawled against the pavement like a starfish. He sees the blood being washed down the sidewalk by the rain, never ending. And he sees how ugly the face looks. Caved in on itself and flattened. It reminds him somewhat of the zombies he sees on television.

Broken.

He wonders if this is what it's like. Were you can clearly see what you've done, but can't make the connection that it was you who did it. Your feelings and mind not yet on the same wave length as the rest of you.

He feels the brick slip out of his hand and he hears it land on the pavement with a dull thud. And he hears the rain now, too. The sound of cars and roofs being pelted with the rhythmic sound fills his ears as he stares at the crumpled figure on the ground, feeling numb and out of touch with himself.

Loud and harsh claps cause him to jump up and away from the body with a barely contained gasp. He turns and watches with wide eyes as the Devil steps out of the shadows, a grin stretched impossibly wide on his face. Teeth too much like razors displayed with pride. But it's okay, because they're still white and the mans clothing isn't torn.

Yet.

Foggy wonders if the Devil's night has just begun. He wonders why it had to start with him.

“Hello, beautiful.”

“Why are you here? Is he one of yours? Are you after him?” Foggy asks in rapid succession, ignoring the Devil's usual greeting.

The Devil doesn't answer, he never does right away. He just stands there, perfectly straight with his hands folded behind his back, a grin on his face. Standing there with his entire being focused on Foggy like he's some sort of beacon. And what unnerves Foggy is that he can feel it. Can feel the energy the man has directed on him, covering his body like a thick, wet, blanket.

“Yes, he is one of mine. But it looks like you beat me to it.”

“He is not dead.“ Foggy says skeptically, pointing at the body with a shaky hand. “Just unconscious.”

“And how would you know that?” The Devil asks.

“Because,” Foggy says as the fear of actually killing someone beings to settle in his mind. Growing red hot in his stomach. “...because I watch a lot of Law and Order. Like a crap ton. I have all 16 seasons on DVD, okay. I-I know what a dead body looks like.”

The Devil smiles at him, all warm and fond like.

“Would you like to know what a dead body really looks like, Foggy?”

“Um...not particularly, no.”

“A dead body,” The Devil beings, taking a step toward Foggy. The weird feeling of boredom and fear mixes around in his mind, and he has to tell himself that this will be nothing like a boring parent story or teacher lecture. “...is like a work of art. Captivating in its grotesqueness. Done in such a way that no matter how horrifying, you can't help but look. Stuck in a sick state of fascination. Caught still by its message, and the knowledge that someone did that. And that you found the beauty in it.”

“But you're blind.” Foggy says before he can stop himself. That tidbit of information, he had decided, was to be kept a secret after it was revealed to him; especially because of how it was revealed. That night had left Foggy wanting to forget it as soon as possible.

“That just means I appreciate it more.”

The Devil is standing in front of him now, and he delivers that line with a smirk that's inches away from Foggy's own mouth. Foggy let's out a shaky breath, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, and his stomach feeling seconds away from emptying its contents.

“He's dead, Foggy. I'm sorry.” He doesn't sound sorry though, and the thought that this man found pleasure in what Foggy's done just makes him shake even more. Tremors racking his body until he can't keep it inside, and the beginnings of a long, hysterical cry makes its way to the surface.

“No, I-I didn't. No, no, no...”

He doesn't register at first the arms that wrap around him. How gentle they are as they pull him close, yet strong as they hold him against the mans chest. There are fingers in his hair. Leather. He feels the kisses pressed into his hair, and then his forehead. He hears the shushing over the rain.

It's so tender, making Foggy feel like a lost child.

“He was going to hurt you, Foggy. You did nothing wrong. You saved your life tonight.”

“No, no, t-that's not t-true. You would have.”

The Devil chuckles at that. Foggy feels the vibrations rumble in his chest and he finds himself pressing closer, chasing that laugh. The Devil allows him, tightening his grip on Foggy, placing another kiss on his head.

“I'll always be here to save you. But tonight.” The Devil says, awe evident in his voice. Soft. “Tonight you were amazing, Foggy.”

Foggy cries. The tears hot against the cold rain, and Foggy allows himself to find comfort from the Devil. From his words. Allows the man to fuss and move Foggy as he sees fit. Leather fingers tracing his face and cupping his cheeks and he ghosts his mouth over Foggy's.

“Blame me, if it's easier. I would have killed him anyway.”

“No, I killed him, I-I...”

“Shh, Foggy. Just let me take care of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I did say try, okay. It's short, but it's all I got.
> 
> Anyone else so stressed that their stress has stress? Yeah. See ya'll in October.
> 
> Not beta read.
> 
> http://waynesgrayson.tumblr.com/


End file.
